


Shattered Glass

by fauxtrots



Category: My Chemical Romance, ferard - Fandom, frerard - Fandom
Genre: Breakups, Britney Spears - Freeform, M/M, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-20
Updated: 2013-04-20
Packaged: 2017-12-08 23:21:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/767271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fauxtrots/pseuds/fauxtrots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Gerard, it doesn’t matter anymore.  I can’t, I <i>don’t</i> love you anymore.  You’re nothing to me but a bittersweet memory.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shattered Glass

The bedroom was never supposed to be a pressing location; a place where hearts would be broken and the truth would spill out.  No, the bedroom was supposed to be a sign of unity, of _love_.  Up until that fateful day, the room had fulfilled its duty, but something soon happened, causing the dreadful downfall.  The truth had been rightfully been exposed, and the room’s connected environment quickly fell apart to the sounds of bitter shouts and broken glass.  Anger had cut the comfort and left nothing but wet tear stains slowly drying on the carpeted floor.  
  
“I just want to know why,” the younger, less dominant in the now ruined relationship spoke, voice shaky but firm at the same time.    
  
The elder’s long raven locks fell ungracefully over his intense green eyes, now wet with salty drops.  He opened his mouth to speak, revealing his small, nicotine-stained teeth in a regretful grimace, but closed it quickly, unsure of how to answer the seemingly simple question.  He owed an explanation, he knew that much.  But he himself didn’t know why he had done it; why he _cheated_ on the only person who loved him enough to take him in, even though his problems more than outweighed the good in his faltering personality.  He returned his eyes to his impatient lover’s piercing gaze, and he urged himself to answer, motivating himself so the current situation wouldn’t get any worse.  “I-i don’t k-know,” the raven-haired man stuttered, still momentarily paralyzed by the realization that yes, he was indeed caught after months in the making.  
  
“Don’t give me that bullshit, Gerard,” the smaller warned, taking in a long, soothing drag of his toxic Marlboro, the smoke planting itself in his shallow lungs, blackening them slowly with poison-ness tar.  He flicked the end, causing the debris to fall beautifully like snow into the awaiting ashtray.  Frank watched this, silently wishing that their relationship could’ve ended as peacefully, _mutually_.  
  
But reality flooded back through him as the opposing being across from him let out a low whimper, a reminder that their relationship didn’t end so calmly, but rather in a catalytic explosion- fatal, if looks could kill.  “I don’t know,” the artist repeated, using his slim fingers to gently remove the black length from his face, tucking it securely behind his small ears.  
  
Frank remembered the touch of Gerard’s soft hands on his own calloused ones, a result of too many years of playing guitar.  He remembered the way their fingers always seemed to automatically intertwine whenever they were near, and the amount of courage in took for Frank to finally slip his arm around Gerard’s somewhat chubby torso, pulling him closer as if to combine their two separate bodies into one; putting two broken hearts together, creating a perfect, whole, beating muscle.  
  
“Was it worth it?  Was it worth losing me?”  The harsh sound of Frank’s question caught Gerard off guard, despite the slight sadness protruding from his low voice.  
  
Gerard dropped his emerald pearls to the wooden table they sat at, trying to find an answer to the deafening question- the one that would bring everything into the light.  “Nothing is worth losing you; losing your love.”  A small droplet flowed down his cheek, trying to get his lover back, but knowing it was too late.  It was finally over, and despite his desperate attempts to win back Frank’s trust it would stay over.  They would never be GerardandFrank again.  They would never dub the name “Frerard” again.  Everything they had together was just shattered glass.  
  
“Did she make you feel like a man?  Is that all you wanted: someone to take away your delicate, effeminate features?  Was I not good enough?” the younger, intact male wondered, half to his counterpart, half to himself.  What had he done wrong?  What had he done to make Gerard crave someone else so intensely?  He kept his gaze on the top of Gerard’s head, now buried in the soft contours of his hoodie-clad elbows.  He sighed, hearing Gerard’s muffled sobs and shallow breath, a product of his own harmful addiction.  
  
“You’re perfect,” Gerard managed to choke out, tears now freely streaming down his reddened face, leaving salty stains upon his fragile skin.  “I didn’t want to hurt you,” he dumbly added, unaware of the fact that in cheating, he _had_ hurt Frank- in more ways than one.  
  
First, there was the dangerous alcohol addiction, poisoning his mind and senses so that everything he did was inhibited; all his actions were made flawed.  And Frank had let him in- both his house and his heart- despite the neediness that Gerard required.  He was willing to take in a broken life, _a broken soul_ , and fix it along with his own, creating a symphony of beautiful unity, resonating through their damaged bodies like the deep vibrations of an organ.  
  
“You hurt me by doing this,” Frank stated shortly, adding to the overall somberness of the conversation.  And like Gerard, he allowed the salty droplets to escape from his blood-shot hazel eyes, and by allowing it to happen, the situation felt all the more real.  He was really there, sitting across from his only true love, closing on nearer to the end, ready to finish the relationship currently based on covered-up lies.  
  
“I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry.  I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”  Gerard scrambled to reach for his pack of cigarettes in the tight confinements of his skinny pants.  He stuck one stick loosely from his two shaking lips, and grabbed the green lighter next to the ashtray that Frank’s dying cigarette was occupying.  He fumbled to light the cancer stick, but his fingers betrayed him, causing him to drop both the lighter from his trembling hands, and the stick from his whimpering mouth.  
  
“Then what was supposed to happen?  Obviously you found someone to fill the void I evidently couldn’t.”  The severity of the statement caused even Frank to cringe as he moved his gaze away from Gerard’s face down to his thin hands, imagining the feel of them once again.  He thought of Gerard’s pink lips, so thin against his own full ones, and the last kiss they shared just hours before.  He fought himself to remember the feel of Gerard’s nicotine-flavored tongue: the taste buds large and scathing, adding to the overall pleasure of their deepened kisses.  He urged himself to find something, _anything_ , that would make what Gerard had done not seem so bad, so that maybe, just maybe, Frank could forgive him and they could continue with their once healthy relationship.  But as expected, he found nothing in his bottle up memories to make him want to forgive Gerard, even though Gerard was the only person he had really ever trusted.  But that trust was now broken, becoming a barrier between the two hearts that at one time were beautifully stitched together.  
  
Gerard never responded to Frank’s piercing statement, too deep in regret to even hear his own voice speak in the same atmosphere as his beloved Frank.  He knew he really messed up this time, and unlike the other careless mistakes he’s made in front of Frank, he knew this one could not, and would not be forgiven.  “Frankie,” he cooed, sighing in the process, head down and shaking slightly, tears falling on the wood table.  
  
“Frank,” the smaller corrected, taking a deep breath and preparing himself for Gerard’s shallow apology.  All of them were the same: hurried, quiet, insincere, and Frank wanted more.  He wanted to trust Gerard like he used to, when their fragile relationship was just beginning to bloom, when neither of them were all that use to human contact.  
  
“Frank,” Gerard repeated, the shorter name causing trouble as he tried to say it.  His mouth turned into a grimace again, and met his green orbs with hazel.  “I love you.”  Silently, he prayed that Frank would see the utmost truth and take him back, for both their sakes.  They had grown a dependency on each other, stronger than the one built on the sour taste of alcohol.  They undoubtedly needed one another, and by ending their relationship, they were slowly killing themselves.  Their separate hearts were blackening and shriveling, the beating staggering as they parted from one another.  Both men needed the other to be complete; they were like a puzzle: it looked okay when it was missing a piece, but as the last piece was put in its place, the whole picture came to life.  
  
Frank rolled his eyes sadly, but somewhat rudely.  “Gerard, it doesn’t matter anymore.  I can’t, I _don’t_ love you anymore.  You’re nothing to me but a bittersweet memory.”  Upon saying this, he reached for the lamp illuminating the small table they sat at.  He picked it up, examining its entirety.  “This was us,” Frank announced coolly, gaining Gerard’s attention.  He ran his short fingers over its smooth edges, its rounded sides.  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”  Gerard nodded in silent agreement, unsure of the point that his ex-lover was trying to make.  And without warning, Frank sent the antique lamp flying through the air, resulting in it splashing glass against the dull whiteness of the bedroom walls.  The sharp sound alarmed Gerard and he jumped back slightly in his chair.  “This is us now,” Frank informed, leaning across the table, nearing Gerard’s frightened, wet face.  Frank mumbled, mere centimeters away from Gerard’s this lips, “We’re nothing but shattered glass.”  
  
“Frankie, please don’t do this,” Gerard pleaded, desperaty filling his shaky voice as he let the old nickname easily roll off his pink tongue.  
  
Frank paid no attention to Gerard’s desperate request, but instead moved back into his original seated position, waiting to speak again as he let old memories once again plague his distressed mind.  
  
He focused on the first night Gerard had slept in his bed: the sexual tension so bad that it couldn’t possibly be set-aside for another day.  They glanced at each other lustfully, but they knew that what they were doing was more than just hormone-induced wild sex; it was the said connecting of their two hearts, two souls, two bodies, coming together in a literal and metaphorical sense.  Quiet moans of ecstacy could be heard throughout the still room, the ones made out of pure love, _pure trust_.  The whispered _I love you’s_ only there to reassure the other, although they knew that it wasn’t needed.  All the love they had for each other was expressed through the passionate touches, and the straining of vocal chords proved useless to the young, love-struck couple.  
  
Frank awoke from his memory, now distant and sour, and stood up from the metal chair, making his way to the shut bedroom door.  He opened it slowly and motioned Gerard over to it whilst speaking, “I’m going to haunt you in your dreams.  You’re going to want me back.”  
  
Gerard now stood awkwardly face-to-face with the shorter man, knowing these were the final moments he’d spend in this room, in this house, _with Frank_ , the man he had grown to love so carefully, earning his trust slowly, and losing it all in one quick motion.  “Frank, please.  I already do,” he begged one last time, not wanting to accept the fact that this was the end.    
  
“I hope you know you’re not coming back,” Frank solemnly said in response to Gerard’s plea.  Gerard nodded in understanding, eager to just get the pain of this break-up over with, but Frank made that impossible due to the last action he would do with Gerard: he wrapped his short arms around Gerard’s thick waist, resting his small head on the artist’s soft chest.  Gerard melted into the embrace, momentarily pleased with the final action.  He placed a friendly kiss to Frank’s hairline before pulling away and walking slowly out of the room- out of Frank’s life- his life now identical to the lamp lying in disarray in the corner of what use to be his bedroom.  
  
“Goodbye Frankie,” he whispered to himself as he reached the front door of the creaking old house, letting the nickname flow from his lips.  
  
“Goodbye Gee,” Frank imitated quietly, instantly feeling the effects of a life without Gerard: the feeling of jagged shattered glass.


End file.
